Metroid Essence
by The Psyche
Summary: The destruction of Zebes has caused a new figure to rise up and take command of the Space Pirates, who has a vision for the future and a military of bloodthirsty soldiers utterly committed to his cause.
1. Return

The tremendous blast wave from Zebes's demise stretched far into the reaches of the system, and near the edge of the bright sapphire inferno, a lemon-colored _Hunter_-class space ship broke away from the explosion with only seconds to spare. As the aft of the craft became a speck against the remains of the huge mess left behind, Zebes was nothing more than chunks of floating rock. The gravitational pull of Zebes had suddenly vanished, causing a great disturbance of the orbit of other planets in the system. The _Hunter_-class ship would be far away from the system by the time any catastrophic effects could take place.

Within the green-domed cockpit of the small ship, Samus Aran removed her blast helmet, and placed it in a tight-fitting compartment alongside of the main control console. Her ship was in the clear, she had quickly decided. She used her left hand, a heavily armored hand, as a cloth as she ran it across the side of her face. Blond hair rested on the armored shoulder plates of the Gravity-Suit she had acquired from a Space Pirate shipwreck on Zebes. A small monitor in the corner of her piloting compartment relayed images of Zebes's remains through to her ship's systems. She felt somewhat empty. Zebes had started it all; the horrible invasion of the Space Pirates, the discovery of the Metroids, and of course, the nesting place of Mother Brain. And now it was gone, and although feeling a sense of accomplishment for the completion of the Space Pirates' destruction, her life now seemed drained of meaning. Although the Space Pirates would some day return, there was no telling how far away that would be. Samus suddenly grimaced and slapped down her armored hand down on the large auto-pilot button. The coordinates were already set so there was nothing more to worry about, apart from her state of mind. She swallowed hard against those thoughts skewering through her mentality. It was going to be a long trip back to the Galactic Federation's main flagship, the _Corsair_.

She was ready to go into deep-space sleep, but no, not yet. She had issues to settle with herself. Ever since she was infused with Chozo blood, thrust into combat with the Space Pirates and their leader, Mother Brain, things still remained a blur. She had fought one warrior's lifetime for every step forward, for every breath taken. She knew already that there would be no reward, the only thing that had driven her from the start was vengeance, and it had controlled her life, making all the decisions leaving no room for objection. The score was settled, and now she had nothing. Absolutely nothing. No family, as they had all been killed, no friends, as the life of a bounty hunter wouldn't allow her to have them, and no goals, for she would only wander endlessly through the giant cosmos, making a living from guilty renegades. And that wasn't the worst part. Zebes may have not been destroyed if the Galactic Federation had taken their own approach instead of sending a fearless and powerful bounty hunter to mop up the Space Pirates. Furthermore, Samus Aran hadn't pulled this one off.

The Super Metroid had been killed.

It had all been for nothing. She knew the Space Pirates would return in one form or another, with Mother Brain or without. The defeated Space Pirates would conjure up an entirely new threat to throw at the Galactic Federation. If the Federation had hope of ridding the Space Pirates from the galaxy quickly and efficiently, it would have depended on that Super Metroid. Using the enemy's tactics against them would have had them scrambling into a lost region of space, as the Federation started harnessing the Super Metroid's power and creating an unstoppable military weapon. Samus knew what a taste of that power felt like, as she fled the exploding Zebes armed with an energy beam of unstoppable Metroid power, provided by the Super Metroid. But the power of that particular Super Metroid was gone, as Mother Brain had eradicated it. Metroid or not, it had saved Samus's life.

It was time now; Samus Aran decided there was absolutely nothing more she could do. There was no turning around to defeat the Space Pirate Remnant, as Ridley, their notorious Commander, had been defeated.

"_Hunter_-class medium vehicle, please state cargo and destination,"

"No cargo. Destination: _Corsair_,"

"Roger that. Please send your clearance codes,"

"Affirmative, Control,"

Samus waited as the communications link provided no sound. Then the voice came through again.

"Aran!? I knew that ship looked familiar. Your codes have expired, but we'll make an exception for obvious reasons. Welcome back" the surprised male voice responded.

"Copy" Samus said, displaying no emotion, and no pleasant return greeting. She cut the transmission and allowed the space station's tractor beam to suck her ship through the docking ring.

Malcolm Clifford's eyes narrowed with intensity as he examined the high-quality computer scans sitting in front of him on a standard computer monitor. The black desk, formed out of a strange metal alloy was the only thing separating the fifty-something academic from the closed doorway; hardly anything else decorated the bland office. Empty containment tubes were crammed into half-open compartments, lightbars placed on the ceiling were somewhat dim, and the walls consisted of two windows, displaying nothing but blackness, and a gray padded material. Clifford's mostly bald head reflected the details of the ceiling in spite of the dim light, and his pained face reflected concern and fascination. One hand rested on the computer keyboard; its sole purpose was hitting buttons to bring up the next image. The other hand was tinkering with a black, grubby rubber ball that served some symbolism from his past. Clifford's index finger came down on the keyboard again, projecting to his eyes a different angle of Zebes's explosion. A few seconds after his eyes started to settle into it, the office door hissed open, and a low-ranking science officer briskly stepped through.

"Sir, the scan-ship wants permission to head back,"

Malcolm nodded with a frown.

"Yes, of course. Don't need my permission where there's common sense involved, boy" he said without much effort.

"Yes sir" the young man replied, his obedience insignificant to the older man. Before he could leave, an authorizing tone prevented him.

"Also, what about these images? Was there only one scan-ship out there?"

"There's more on standby now but they were being used a few hours ago. Do you want me to deploy them, sir?"

"Yes. Post haste, boy. I'll give them specific orders, send them up here. Oh and…"

The drifting of his voice caught the younger man's attention after he had decided to leave again.

"Yes sir?"

"No sign of, Aran?" Malcolm asked, rubbing his forehead.

"Afraid not, sir,"

Malcolm nodded; disappointment evident in his face. Without anything further, the science officer silently dismissed himself and left the Chief Science Executive alone in his office again. The academic let a long sigh escape him.

"Samus, what have you done?" he quietly asked himself. Moments later, the same annoying messenger exploded back into Malcolm's officer.

"Sir, it's Aran" he quickly said. Malcolm launched upward from his chair and slapped his hands flat on the desk.

"I want her in my officer as soon as possible!" he exclaimed.

The amethyst domed shoulder plates of Samus Aran's Gravity-Suit armor snapped out of place quite violently, but the armored plating around her arm slipped away peacefully as the strain of its attachment was slackened. A silky navy sleeve covered Samus's arm, a black glove sheltered her hand. Samus stood still for a few moments, gazing aimlessly at her arm's shape. She had not been able to view her normal self in what seemed like months. It was amazing how small and delicate her arm appeared in comparison to the bulky and fierce equipment she boasted. With a few hand motions the black glove slipped from her fingers, and she spent a few seconds gyrating her wrist. She'd feel a lot lighter with all this body armor gone. Of course her trademark armor, infamous among bounty hunters, would have to be secured aboard her ship in a few minutes. Currently she was enjoying privative hospitality in a guest refreshment room just off from the docking bay. Samus grumbled under her breath as she suddenly figured all the high-up figures of her mission to Zebes would be erupting with questions, demanding answers. Asking why the hell the planet blew up. It could wait, couldn't it?

Hot water. Standing in the shower was a dream Samus had been lacking ever since her deployment to Zebes. Of course her suit had automated hygienic systems but none of them were as comforting or as relaxing as a steamy warm shower. The water drooling over her shoulders, soaking into her feet was almost enough to prepare her for a bombardment of inquiries from the Federation heads. As she switched the water supply to an off position, and stepped out of the shower, she noticed something else that had been bugging her ever since she arrived on _Corsair_. Sleep deprivation. Tired or not, nobody would let her sleep until questions were answered.

The office door slid open and tucked itself away into a thin partition, and Samus Aran stood, wearing a black and emerald silky jumpsuit, examining the old man sitting behind his desk. He offered her a smile, whether it was genuine or not, she was too tired to tell. She didn't give him one back, and placed herself down in a seat, prepared for her on the other side of the desk, without saying a word. Malcolm swallowed hard as he went to his monitor for a moment. He then gave Samus his full attention.

"Miss Aran, you may or may not remember me. My name is Doctor Malcolm Clifford, I am the…"

"Chief Science Officer on this ship, you were on Ceres Station when I delivered the Super Metroid,"

Malcolm befitted an uncomfortable smile, and brought his eyes to the monitor. He was reminded of how fortunate he was, when he left before the Space Pirate attack on the station.

"Firstly, I'll be expecting a report, but you're free to hand that in whenever you like" he said. He looked to her for acknowledgement, but the only thing Malcolm received was a concentrated stare, something he wasn't too contented with. "But I have some general questions about the missions, urgent ones, as a matter of fact,"

There was a pause in his words for a brief moment. "Your mission was to obtain the Super Metroid from the clutches of the Space Pirates. I'll admit it was on very brief notice, during the trip to Zebes, but…"

"The Super Metroid was killed by Mother Brain" Samus quickly interrupted. Malcolm put on a glum face.

"I… I thought Mother Brain was dead,"

"I thought so too" Samus replied in a matter-of-factly manner. Already Malcolm could feel the strain of keeping Samus comprehensive. He was very shocked however, to hear the news of the Super Metroid.

"Samus, don't take this the wrong way, but something tells me that Super Metroid could have been rescued. You understood how unique it was. Hell, if we could have even snagged some decent genetic coding of the thing, we could have even…"

"Doctor Clifford, rest assured I did everything within my power to obtain the Super Metroid. But I couldn't, and what's done is done. Wishing I had tried harder, which I never could have, won't bring the Super Metroid back,"

Finally, more than a sentence worth of information. Malcolm cleared his throat.

"Alright" he calmly said in defeat. "Why did Zebes explode?"

Samus kept a blank face before she replied.

"My heads-up display read the presence of a bomb in Tourian. When it exploded, it most likely sent a chain reaction through the colonized Space Pirate areas. Space Pirate technology and colonization extended all the way into the depths of Norfair, which is by the way, in the deeper spots, getting very close to the core of Zebes. There was also Space Pirate colonization in Brinstar and Maridia. Mother Brain is also a very powerful entity, an explosion from within could be as big as this ship,"

Malcolm sighed, dissatisfied with the results from the mission to Zebes.

"So let me get this straight, Miss Aran. You picked up a distress call from Ceres Station after delivering the Super Metroid, and then entered Ceres Station to find the Space Pirate Commander, Ridley, who absconded with the Super Metroid. You tracked Ridley to the planet of Zebes, where you discovered Space Pirate colonization. You traveled to the depths of Zebes to locate the Super Metroid, only then to see it killed by Mother Brain? This isn't adding up, Miss Aran. Why did Mother Brain terminate a Metroid? The Space Pirates have been trying to breed them to utilize them as an army,"

"That Super Metroid saved my life, Doctor. If it hadn't seen me as its mother when it first hatched, it would have attacked me. But when it tried to exchange life-force between Mother Brain and my armor, it was killed,"

Malcolm kept a stern, disbelieving look about him, and continued.

"Right… Anything else I should know?"

"Commander Ridley, a Space Pirate bioweapon Kraid, and Mother Brain, have all been terminated. I believe there was a price on Ridley's head,"

"Yes, well you can talk to someone else about your reward. We're done here. Dismissed,"

Samus thought to herself as she exited the office and headed through the grey and white corridor leading to Federation Trooper bunkrooms. There were only two types of people that sat back and witnessed someone else doing the hard work, and they were the corporates, and the academics. Malcolm Clifford seemed to be one of the latter, so Samus knew there was still a company executive to deal with somewhere down the line. When Samus arrived at her destination; a bunkroom in which she had been assigned to temporarily, she pressed a thumb down hard on the door switch and it buzzed open, delivering a small whiff of a charming deodorizer's aroma with its motion. It seemed her bunkmate, who she had been told was a Federation marine Corporal, was elsewhere. Everything had been left in a relatively tidy state, most surprising for a mere grunt of the Federation marine core. She clumped military-issued bagging next to the foot of her allocated bed, and sat down on near the pillow. After a quick examination Samus decided she could quite pleasantly accept this environment for the next few days before beginning a search for the new bounty. She realized that with all her past missions, she had gathered a reputation for beating the life out of Space Pirates, and little else. Finding a private bounty for a nice price would be a chore in itself, once again it looked like the Federation was her one and only option. Apparently _Corsair_'s night and day was parallel to the times of the nearby planet of Sejene, so she'd have to keep her eyes open for a few more hours to avoid butchering her sleeping pattern. But what was there to do? Socialization was a commitment, a mission just to learn how to act normal among Humans, so there were few options. As she pressed her kneecaps rising to her feet, the door to the room slid open, and a slender dark-haired male slipped through the doorway, not looking up or aware of Samus's presence in the room. Obviously he was engaged in deep thought, and there was no need to disturb him. Plus, he'd get one hell of a fright when he saw her.

"Jesus!" the Corporal said abruptly. He sighed and loosened up his muscles. He gestured to Samus politely and then rubbed his hand through his short, straight hair. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. Miss Aran, right?"

"Yes" Samus replied, taking a little pleasure from seeing the man jump. Her face kept emotionless until she decided it was time to drop the stiffness that she'd shared with Malcolm Clifford. "You… you can call me Samus" she said, trying to squeeze out a smile. She couldn't, but the tone was reassuring. The marine placed his bags down next to his khaki colored trousers and looked at Samus, for a second admiring her beauty. Being away from Humans for so long, Samus wouldn't have caught onto it.

"I'm Corporal…"

"Drake Warren, Squad Bravo Black, commonly known as Blazer Squad" Samus said instinctively, forgetting her manners. She soon realized her mistake and put on an embarrassed smile. "Damn, I really have to stop doing that" she muttered. Drake screwed his nose up and shrugged.

"Being around the hard-ass Sergeants kind of jades me to that stuff. Don't worry about it" he replied kindly. "I've heard a lot about you Samus" he said commendably. "Zebes, the Space Pirates, Metroid Prime, the Ing, the whole deal,"

Samus became uncomfortable with the mention of her missions. She knew how these grunts worked. Once they started complimenting they weren't going to stop until they were either slapped, or Samus's case, knocked unconscious. Samus swallowed hard, even the mention of her recent past pained her mind. Drake quickly picked up on her unintended signals. "But, you probably don't want to hear the fan stuff, right now, eh?" he remarked. Samus tilted her head and smiled at him appreciatively, but no words came out. "I understand how it is" Drake said softly. "But you're quite the talk around here. The great and legendary bounty hunter Samus Aran. Just remember you're no stranger to anyone here,"

Samus already knew that. It wasn't something she was too fond of, either. "Oh and uh… You might want to watch some of the privates…"

Samus raised a brow. "Oh god" Drake said shaking his head. "I mean uh, the other soldiers. Some of the younger ones don't have much respect for women, they come up from…"

"Rest assured I'll be the last woman they'll ever see if they try something, Corporal" she smiled coldly. "So no need to worry about that,"

Drake nodded and made a confused and slightly timid face as he brought himself up to leave the bunkroom again. He gave her a polite nod and then left the bunkroom, somewhat confused. Samus waited for the door to slide into its shut position, and grinned mischievously. _He knows who the boss is_, she thought.

Only two minutes into the conversation, and already Samus had classified Devis Terrald as your stereotypical corporate. These days the mission commission was like a regular insurance company, and if it weren't for the large bold signs above the doorway to Devis's office, Samus could have been fooled. Not only was Devis denying there was ever a price on Ridley's head, but he was disallowing Samus to receive any pay whatsoever because of her failed mission on Zebes.

"You blew the planet up, and you want us to _pay_ you?" Devis cried as if he were in trauma. "Sorry, but it doesn't work like that,"

"I wiped out the Space Pirate colonization on Zebes, Mister Terrald, which was their largest and central command center, by the way. Don't even start telling me that it doesn't…"

"Your mission was to bring back the Super Metroid, Miss Aran. You failed to do that, and _I_ fail to see a reason as to why I should sign a cheque,"

"I suppose you do this with all the other bounties?" Samus asked, in defeat.

"Do what?"

"Screw the hunter over,"

"I'm sorry, Miss Aran. I can no longer deal with your problems" Devis concluded, rising from his chair. Samus shook her head. Half-expecting some slime ball escape route she had been. Nevertheless, she'd get her money. Devis retreated further into the mission commission outpost, entered through a doorway and closed it behind him. In the second that was available to view inside the staff room, Samus caught another company man within.

Devis seemed rather anxious as he made his approach.

"Have you made the deal?" he asked. The bigger man with a build that resembled a rather small Chozo, straightened the collar of his blue-lined undershirt, standing comfortably behind some black million dollar suit.

"The marines will never know what hit them,"

Samus, suddenly alarmed that she was hearing business talk that was completely confidential, pressed of from the side of the doorway before one of them decided to come out of the room.

Never were there only a few leaders and tacticians in the briefing room. The amount of brains and thought it took to run a single operation in the marine core was quite mind-boggling to the less knowledgeable on the topic of the military. The spearhead was Colonel Warrick Gilsmore, a battle-hardened warrior of African-American heritage. Alongside of him was the small but heavily built Mexican, Carlos Sanchez. Sergeant Sanchez, that would be. He played something of the role of a tactician during the operation's planning stage along with fourteen other members of the marine core. The amphitheatre circling the main briefing chamber surrounded an activated hologram in the middle of the room, displaying the planet Ognosis. Gilsmore's eyes ran over the surface of the blue and green sphere, and then turned his attention to the rows of marines.

"Ognosis, out of Galactic Federation space. Recent scans of the planet on a five-year routine run discovered the presence of an occupied Space Pirate base" Gilsmore said with his harsh, western voice. "Now I know we knew of the Space Pirate base on Ognosis previously but Federations troops wiped out its population. Now, it's inhabited again,"

"Your equipment," Sergeant Sanchez announced, taking a step forward in front of Gilsmore, "Is not FST inclusive, so whip out your wallets,"

Sanchez received slight laughter, all the marines knew about the hefty prices the marine core would have to dish out to get a hold of that equipment. Drake Warren wrapped his fingers around one hand, smiling to himself. That was the Sergeant, always fun and games. Maybe the only reason Sanchez wasn't such of a brute like Gilsmore was because he hadn't been knee-deep in hell, yet. Neither had any of the Blazers, for that matter. Most of them were still considered newborns in the marine core. Drake for one was hoping that this would be their big break, and possible promotions could follow. Gilsmore eyed the Sergeant after his small crack, coldly ordering him to continue. "Now there _will_ be shooting, no doubt about it" Sanchez with hesitation, his voice suddenly firming. "The high-ups sent a recon team down to Ognosis, and before they even located the base, no communications transmissions were able to be transmitted because the whole team was…" the Mexican sighed.

"Not killed" Gilsmore filled in quickly. "But captured. We believe our recon team are being held as prisoners within the base,"

Drake frowned as he raised a hand.

"This is, Space Pirate activity? I thought the Space Pirates were wiped out along with the destruction of Zebes?" he asked. Gilsmore shook his head.

"Don't bet on it, Walker" the Colonel replied. Drake shook his head.

"I'm Warren" he said quickly.

"_I'm _Walker" answered a completely different looking male of Blazer Squad. The Colonel brushed away his incorrectness with an effortless wave.

"There were fleeing Space Pirates from Zebes, and we have no idea how long this planet has been colonized by the Space Pirates for. It could be weeks, it could be up to four years and eleven months. Either way they must be well-prepared for assault if they managed to catch a recon team,"

"We could be walking right into a trap" Drake objected, concern now blooming.

"That's generally what marines do" Sanchez said bleakly. Drake eyed Gilsmore with disclosure.

"Surely there must be some kind of insurance" he said. Gilsmore nodded, quite confidently.

"We'll have short-range scout probes laying out the area for us,"

"What's the terrain like?" Peter Savski asked with his usual generic and sophisticated sounding tone.

"There are a large number of lakes around all land-masses on the planet. The terrain on the ground can range from grasslands, to mountains, to dense forest canyons. I'm afraid you'll be getting your hands dirty,"

"And your asses pricked" Sanchez spoke up. "Natural wildlife in the jungle areas can be a real hassle,"

After the briefing had finished, Drake Warren made his way up the large amphitheatre steps, heading toward the closest exit to the troop quarters, which was somewhere on his left. He stopped before the doorway when there was a stunning female figure waiting for him. He was smiling on the inside until he realized it was Samus Aran – she was untouchable. Samus noticed the change in the Corporal's expression.

"What? Did I burst your bubble?" she asked. Drake cleared his throat abruptly, and moved on from the thought.

"Why are you hanging around here?" he asked, observing the last group of marines to filter from the other side of the briefing chamber. Samus brought her hands together and then leaned against a white, spotless wall, now only partially blocking the doorway.

"I've always got money to earn. Got operations to look out for" she replied after a few seconds. Drake frowned.

"What do you mean? This operation doesn't include you,"

"It will when the bunch of you are locked up in some Space Pirate prison cell" she grinned heartlessly. Drake offered an empty smile and shook his head in disbelief.

"You're the coldest woman I've ever met" he said, shouldering past her. Coming from a marine, that was rather amusing. She watched after him for a few moments.

"You've never stared at death in the face, have you?" she spoke up. Drake, filled with skepticism, stopped in tracks, took offense, and then looked back at Samus.

"What's your problem, Samus? I'm trying to be polite toward you. And all you can do is act inappropriately, and I might I add, offensively around me?" he questioned. Samus regretted her words but kept the reaction on the inside. She had dealt with Space Pirates, defeated tyrants like Mother Brain, survived through the harsh wildlife of planets all alone, but there was a single challenge in life that was out of her league – and that was learning how the minds of Humans' worked. Drake continued to wait for a response, clutching two glimmering dog tags within his fist. She pushed herself from the wall and decided to make a stand.

"I've seen it all, Corporal. I'm not some presumptuous, run of the mill soldier. I've been closer to hell in my recent missions, than you'll ever get near to in your _entire_ lifetime. So be straight with me, because I can help you,"

Drake tilted his head, suddenly becoming more aware of a bigger picture somewhere in the conversation, and raised a brow.

"What are you talking about?"


	2. Conspiracies

Drake Warren extended his arm to press the switch, and traditionally allowed Samus Aran to pass through the doorway first. He stepped through the door he locked it behind him, and then ruffled a hand through his jet black hair. Samus eyed the chrono figures in between the two bunks, and they read '01:24.' Her sense of time was out of place, and it would be difficult to ease into a sleeping pattern again. Drake sighed as he sat down on his bunk.

"You might feel a little awkward. It sort of is for me" Drake admitted. Samus casually rolled her eyes, discarding his behavior as a complex typical of males.

"Don't get any ideas" she groaned. Drake shook his head.

"You misunderstand, Samus. It's not like… _that_. The sheer fact of having a woman around is quite… unusually remarkable. You don't know what it's like in the marine core. Sure, some of the younger ones are…" he floated off, but decided not to finish his sentence. "But it's curiosity more than anything. How your kind thinks…"

"My _kind?_" Samus pointed out. Drake flushed a hand toward her.

"Oh for the love of… You… I'm not… Ah, forget it" Drake said in a muddle. "You wouldn't understand,"

Samus's hands were placed in a lock a few inches above her lap, and her face dipped downward toward them and her perfectly shaped lips formed a smirk of regret.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to take things less personally" she said, half sarcastically. Drake nodded quickly, eager to explain.

"Well don't be sorry. I… _all_ of us here in the core, we've been away from women for so long. Most of us, anyway. You'll get the occasional female within the military but fifty percent of the time she'll have bigger balls than any of the guys" Drake explained. Because his words were said without the slightest hint at humor, Samus uttered a laugh at how seriously his tone was. He looked up at her, hurt.

"What?"

"Nothing, carry on,"

"We just need… _change_, really. Most of us are around our same kind all the time, and that's until we retire or get a civilian career. You can understand our curiosity, right?"

"Of course" Samus nodded cheerily. "But I'm not the kind of woman that fits the picture,"

"I noticed" Drake said jokingly. It was clear he didn't mean any offense. "I think that's why the Colonel wasn't afraid to assign you to a bunkroom with one of us. He knows you wouldn't take any rubbish,"

"That, and you seem to be quite typical for the core,"

"Uh… eh?"

"Lack of maturity clouds most of 'em. C'mon, even you must see that,"

"I suppose. It is true though, that the higher ranked you are the more you change. All of the Sergeants, well, apart from Carlos, and anyone ranked above them, are significantly different from the rest of us. Most of all, their eyes change. It's like… It's like they've seen more than they were meant to, you know?"

Samus brought her eyes up to his, suddenly thinking that the Corporal was somewhat ignorant.

"Yes" she said blandly. "I know,"

Drake Warren swallowed the topic down his throat, and rubbed his nose to relieve an itch.

"Alright, now tell me. Before, what did you mean?"

"I suppose you're referring to the briefing chamber?"

"Yes" Drake replied, keen on draining some information out of her. Samus moved further onto the bunk she was on, and slanted her body, dressed in the black and emerald off-duty marine uniform, to lean against the wall opposite the door. She bit her lower lip, watching over Drake for a few seconds, and old thoughts flooded through her mind without hesitance. The data overload wasn't able to be processed fast enough, and that's when she came to the conclusion, to start from the beginning. Samus took a deep breath.

"As you know Corporal, I've worked for the Galactic Federation for a good chunk of my life. Seeking bounties, the lot,"

"Yes,"

"All of that sprouted from… from a sense of no belonging…"

Samus closed her eyes. Surely she could fit in her life story before sleeping. But it was something she never shared. It was locked up inside, and the only time her history was accessed, was when her mind escaped her control. The beginning – that was the worst part. Images of horrid bloodshed, shredded hopes and crushed morale. The Space Pirate attack came first. It was almost impossible to comprehend such violence and such cruelty, but the fact remained, that it all happened. And Samus Aran was the sole survivor. Smoldering fires chewing through rubble, limbs scattered across what was once a meeting square, crimson collages of internal organs decorating a pyramid of debris and a Human skull, mashed by the pounding of a Space Pirate's foot. Haunted, twisted images that nobody lived to know about, except Samus herself. Her head rolled back into the wall, smacking her back into reality, and then came the tears. She did her best to hold them back, by no way would she allow those bags of emotion to slip from her eyes without a fight, and even though it was a fight she knew she would lose, there was an attempt of prevention. Drake went to comfort her immediately, like a true gentleman, but there was nothing in the least he could do.

"Samus…" he said softly. "I'm… I'm sorry…"

Drake had no idea what the hell to say. He was useless with understanding how women worked, but he would do his best to mend what he saw, as his fault. He was hesitant about touching her, not because of her reputation, but because he had little idea of what he was dealing with. Samus finally killed the source of the tears and wiped them from her face with a single stroke.

"Get… get away" she ordered urgently. "Get… get away!"

Drake, in a flash, was on the other side of the bunkroom. One whole minute passed, and between them, absolutely nothing was said at all. Drake was worried that he may have discomforted her further, and Samus was constantly trying to block out those morbid pictures from returning. She broke the silence, with a long sigh.

"I can't take it Drake… I'm sorry, but I just can't. I can't have someone breaking my solitude until I learn to deal with some issues I have" she said, her voice still on the border of breaking down again. Drake replied quietly, and confusedly.

"I didn't know, Samus. I was only trying to help,"

"Don't help me" she said firmly. "Nobody helps me,"

The Corporal was totally baffled, and although he was keen on wondering what Samus was on about earlier, by no means did he want to see her cry again.

A cloud of casual conversation floated through the mess hall. Various aromas spread far and wide across the chamber, with blended scents ranging from raw meats to fresh and colorful salads. Marines were everywhere, and some of _Corsair_'s maintenance crew. Not even slightly was Colonel Warrick Gilsmore concerned about who sat next to him in the mess hall of _Corsair_. There was little time for socializing with the upcoming mission, and because of that, the mess hall served as a sufficient place for the critical mixing of different personalities. This kept the marine's morale high, and morale was just as important as weaponry or armor in the field; if not more so. Sergeant Carlos Sanchez slipped into a seat alongside of the aging brown colored man, and placed a metallic tray on a black tabletop.

"I guess this makes it… six days, right?"

"Right" Gilsmore confirmed. The older man collected a piece of meat soaked in a translucent blue thick sauce with an invisible vacuum energy working around the end of a silver rod, and delivered the food into his mouth. When Gilsmore chewed and swallowed the load down, he noticed an irritating stare from the Sergeant. "Carlos… why the hell do you do that?"

"You know I don't understand how you can like that Geemer stuff, man" Sanchez spoke back, forgetting about formalities in the mess hall. Upon finishing his needless sentence, Corporal Drake Warren tried not to make his presence go too noticed amongst the bickering two. He grinned at the thought of the Colonel behaving like a child. Sanchez though… well, that was normal for him. A few seconds after that, Naoko Aichi pulled out a cheap fold-up seat with contempt, but placed herself down very cleanly. She was distinctive amongst the group of men, because of her thinner, smaller build, and noticeably, her facial features. High, red cheery cheeks, contributed by makeup no doubt, along with black hair tied up in some Japanese traditional fashion, with lacquered scarlet hashi chopsticks, certainly dubbed her a distinctive character amongst the marine core. She was a well-respected member of Blazer Squad however, known to be both deadly with a firearm; and even _deadlier_ with a knife or two.

"Hey Nao, do the thing with your chopsticks" Sanchez asked boyishly. "Please" he added hopefully. Naoko, better known as Nao to everyone around her, twitched her small lips and then gave the Sergeant a wink.

"I did it yesterday,"

"I know but it's really cool" Sanchez said, his voice almost a whine.

"And they're _hashi_ chopsticks" she said with a warning in her tone. Sanchez shook his head from side to side.

"Yeah, yeah! Just do it. Please?" he asked one last time. Nao, in secret, loved pulling off fancy finger acrobatics with her hashi, only so she could die of laughter witnessing some of the foolish ones try to imitate her. She put on a false expression of dismay, before whipping a single hashi from her hair, flipping it around for what seemed several thousand times in the massive enveloping blur, and for the final touch, slashed it downward between two _very_ narrowly spaced fingers on her free hand, and the chopstick suddenly formed into a solid between the gap.

"I've seen that one," Gilsmore commented teasingly, "You'll have to dig up some new tricks, I'm afraid,"

Sanchez chuckled to himself throughout Gilsmore's comment.

"I for one will never get bored of that. Besides, one day she might screw up and drill a hole through her finger. That'd be pretty cool" the immature Sergeant giggled away. While plugging the hashi back into her hair style, Nao gave him a sardonic look.

"Thanks, Sarge,"

Drake Warren kept somewhat quiet, even after Nao's little exhibition, and continued to slowly progress through his food. After finishing a mouthful, Gilsmore looked up at him.

"I hope nothing's happening between you and your new bunkmate, Drake" he said firmly. Drake stopped with a rod-full of food halfway through a motion to bring it up to his mouth, and looked up, surprisingly.

"Chit-chat at the most, Colonel. I assure you" he filled in. A dissatisfied look he wish he hadn't let slip emerged on his face as he continued with his breakfast. Gilsmore had expected it.

"Are you _sure_ about that?"

"Of course" Drake replied, this time annoyed.

"I hope so. You know the only reason I let this one go was because there were no other rooms on the ship available and I wasn't going to put her in a holding cell,"

"Yeah, whatever" Drake said, not particularly interested with the topic anymore. Sanchez kept his eyes to himself.

"Why we made him a Corporal when he talks like that, Warrick" Sanchez said.

"Speaking of which," Drake suddenly spoke up amusingly, "Who in their right mind would make you a Sergeant?"

Gilsmore started to laugh when he realized the joke was directed at him. This caused Drake further amusement.

"Bah, I'm getting seconds" he mumbled, departing from the table. Sanchez's face swiftly beamed with awareness as Gilsmore was out of hearing range.

"You were being straight, weren't you, _Corporal?_" the Sergeant asked, pulling rank. "You know there's one thing I can't have in my squad. And if you somehow… got started on a relationship with Miss Aran then I can't ignore it,"

"Sarge, please. You're making me feel like I've done something wrong. We both know I'm mature enough to handle myself around the occasional outland woman. That's why after all; Gilsmore assigned her to my bunkroom, right?" Drake said, losing his patience to a minor degree. Nao gave Sanchez, who was on the adjacent of Drake on the square table, a reassuring nod.

"I can smell these things, Sarge. Give him a break, and loosen up. The Colonel should too,"

"Is that right…" Sanchez replied into nobody in particular. The mess hall, with a blue grey tint to it, fell silent with a new entrant stepped through the opening slide doors. Drake paused from his breakfast, and looked up to see what the blanket of silence was for. He muttered under his breath. He had warned her not to show up in the mess hall for refreshment, but to stick to the corporate side of things instead. Of course, something told him she didn't particularly listen. The rows and rows of eyes peered at Samus, as if she were some kind of disease causing agent, as she slowly made her way through the room. Eyes wouldn't affect her, though. Neither would thoughts. Even Gilsmore had stopped at the canteen, wondering what in blazes she was doing in the mess hall. There would be discrimination against her from some of the less informed marines surely, but that wasn't what he was worried about. A bald young man by the name of Richter Nassis removed himself from his table, and slowly approached Samus from her left. Gilsmore sighed. Preemptively step in he could, but, that way the marines wouldn't learn their lesson. Richter would be the first and last warning to the entire marine core.

"I think you better go, sweetheart," Richter said with a scumbag manner. "Might be a bit too rough for ol' Samus,"

There he went, without seconds to spare. He was only in the air for a couple of seconds, before he landed somewhere in the rightmost corner of the mess hall near to the double-doors. A part of Gilsmore wanted to laugh, but he held it, and his face remained unsurprised and strict. Samus continued her journey through until she reached Drake's table, and while the room was still dead silent with shocked eyes, Samus decided to add a little comment.

"Nice place" she remarked to Drake. Drake didn't quite have the guts at that time to look at her directly, but fortunately, she continued onto the canteen. Gilsmore continued with his selection of intergalactic casseroles so Samus could be done quickly, and then returned to his table. Thankfully, people in the room started muttering, and then full-scale conversation broke out. The topics were questionable. Gilsmore didn't touch his food tray when he sat down.

"Drake…" he said, about to explode.

"I don't know! I told her to keep in the corporate side!" he cried in his defense.

"Oh don't blame the Corporal here" Samus smiled, as she appeared above Nao's head. "Just thought I could use some conversation. Besides, _that_…" she said, tilting her head toward the limping private, "… was fun,"

Nao was surprised at the newcomer's attitude.

"I'm… sure it was" she said tensely. Nao was a fierce marine, but it seemed momentarily she had competition. Samus took a seat on an unoccupied side of the table.

"Sorry about that Colonel. I don't want to be a pain. I just can't stand corporates and their blasted red carpet" she claimed. Gilsmore nodded, understandingly.

"Of course, Miss Aran,"

"Call me Samus" the hunter said quickly. Drake scratched his forehead uncomfortably. He didn't like this too much.

The slender man brushed his hand over his freshly shaven cheeks and buried his head in his pillow, as though being caught naked by a ship full of tourists.

"Don't be so cynical" Samus said playfully.

"Samus, no offense, but you really have to sharpen up on those social skills of yours,"

"It was necessary to chuck that little man through the hall. It made a valid point,"

"And gave him a valid bloody broken leg, too" Drake added quickly. He sat up. "It's over now. Just…"

"Yeah, yeah… I get the idea" Samus said, swallowing it down. There was silence for a moment as a gateway for a new subject dawdled through the air. "Sorry about last night, my past is a very unstable thing. You deserve to know what I was going to tell you, but…"

"You can skip your history, I understand. What you know, you know for a reason, I'll accept that and even take it at face value. Like you said, you've seen things I can't even begin to imagine,"

Samus raised an eyebrow. She was impressed; he had just made things astoundingly easy for her.

"Thank you" she said gratefully. "Here's the grub, Drake,"

Drake felt a mild sense of achievement when she mentioned him casually by his name for the first time; however none of it was evident on his face. For some reason, it seemed that being around Samus had somehow raised his skill in hiding emotion. Was that a bad thing? "Corporates, they're pulling off some sort of deal, which I think is with the Space Pirates,"

Naturally, Drake couldn't accept the idea of _Corsair_'s own occupants conspiring against the marines. He took a deep breath, and Samus realized coming out with the truth so quickly was an error on her part.

"Samus, just… stop. Do you realize what you're saying?" Drake questioned with an arcane expression.

"I know exactly what I'm saying" she said firmly, and leaned in closer to the man. "The mission commission has pulled off a deal; I heard two suits go on about it,"

"Then why haven't you gone to Gilsmore, or someone…" Drake groaned, still rejecting the scheme.

"Who would believe me? I can't even get _you_ to believe me" she said with a hint of resentment. Drake sighed and tried to contemplate if she knew what she was dealing with.

"Carry on" he hesitantly said.

"I was at the mission commission, on this ship, and they denied me any pay whatsoever for terminating Ridley or any of the space pirates. To say the least I was little ticked off, and I was curious whether the conversation this… Terrald guy was about to have involved the rejection of my money. But this other guy… he mentioned a deal was just pulled off. Then he said something about the marines,"

"I'm… I'm not seeing your point here" Drake said, still not considering the possibility. Samus bit her lower lip before replying.

"No… No, because you're trained not to ask questions, right?"

Drake buried his head in cupped hands.

"What are you getting at?" he asked, the caution in his voice not holding back.

"The mission commission is up to something. You're a fool if you can't see it,"

"Samus, what you're proclaiming here is absurd. For almost a hundred years the mission commission has conducted successful and legitimate operations. I just… You must understand that I cannot comprehend in the slightest part what you're saying. You understand that, don't you?" Drake explained desperately. Samus didn't reply immediately this time, but instead exhaled a long breath, and came up from her bed to sit next to Drake. Her voice was a calm whisper, but somehow, her tone was urgent.

"Drake, you have to believe me. You have to ask yourself why I would be making this up. You have to ask yourself why I would want to throw you off track like this before an important mission…"

Drake's face was sour, and for a moment Samus felt hope as his expression seemed to be contemplating the possibility of her words, but he shook it loose.

"No!" he said abruptly. "No, I can't accept that… Can't accept any of it…"

Samus nodded slowly, and understood her attempt at convincing the Corporal was in vain. She dropped her head, and gave up for now. There were other methods of proving the point.


	3. New Entrant

The Ershos Dirtlands swathed a great many secrets. On the surface, were high-speed gales, whipping specks of brown grain through the air, sometimes circling, forming a small, bronzed cyclone spinning off in various directions. The direction of the wind was completely messed up by the gravitational concentration of the Ershos Dirtlands, which contained a certain metal ion element named 'Durias', which was packed with negative energy, causing a large magnetic push and pull around from other parts of the same material. Even rocks had a hard time nesting in one place, as they were forced by the wind too. This wind force caused frequent landslides from nearby dormant volcanoes, topping up the amount of grain that wreathed the cliff sides and plains. Life was impossible in the Ershos Dirtlands. Rarely did even aerial wildlife pass over the area, and when it did, it could take hours just to endeavor through the challenge of the winds. The fierce whaling of the twists and coils of the wind blocked out all other sound, not even a nearby landing Space Pirate ship could be heard by anything but the ship's occupants; it could barely even be seen through the blanket of dirt sweeping through the lands. The Space Pirate ship was a small grey craft, blinking with a few bright yellow lights at various parts of the hull. The entrance/exit ramp of the ship lowered with a low hum, which could not be heard by the figure waiting at the top of it. A few seconds after the ramp had come to a halt, forming a triangle along with the ground and the ship's landing gear, and a silver glistening boot pressed down, and halted parallel to the ramp for a moment, before the rest of the foot landed. Another strive forward and the right leg came forward, and then the steps became fluid. A dark cape fluttered after the being, changing direction rapidly from wind forces, and followed its master into the darkness of a sheltered cave.

Executive Officer AX7-45, commonly referred to as AX7 without formalities, sunk into the rather larger grey console chair, pressing a few buttons on a control panel on the right armrest. The Space Pirate's roach-like appearance was distinctive against the surroundings of the silver and grey computer consoles and projectors placed around Monitor Station. A red and yellow hologram popped up with Space Pirate encoded figures scrolling downward through the image, and the electronically produced light reflected of AX7's auburn, rubbery face, black-clawed mandibles and goggled violet eyes. Black, mechanized shoulder plating wrapping around under his arms, strapped tightly to his torso, with energy tanks resting on the structure connected to the covering. Signature Space Pirate laser-powered projectiles rested not far away from AX7 on a desk, within his reach if he extended his arm enough. With delicate, skeletal clippers, the chief Space Pirate of the Ershos Base scraped the base of his scalp pinnacle, which splintered through his skin, as it did with all mature Space Pirates. A croak came out from the needle curving out of a blackened opening deep and low in his face.

"Resuscitation proceeding as planned" he spoke into a voice diary. "Soon our remaining mainstay will be fully functional with the aid of imported Phazon. I am indeed looking forward to it,"

As his log finished, AX7 spawned a grin, holding carnage close behind it. An alert from a comlink nearby removed it. He grabbed the comlink, quite aggressively and held it up to his mandibles. "AX7-45, this better be good,"

"Sir, he's arrived" came a higher pitched voice, crackled and broken up slightly from frequency static. What remained of AX7's grin soon decayed into a snarl. He dropped the comlink next to an activated holographic projector and clenched his mandibles tightly around his mouth needle, creating what was a Space Pirate equivalent to a grimace. After a few moments of brutal thoughts, AX7 reached out to turn the comlink off completely, so it would be unable to receive transmissions.

"I won't let this self-appointed fool take over what I've worked so hard toward building" he muttered to himself. Enforcer-Z9, referred to by AX7 as En-Zee, broke into the terrace of Monitor Station a couple of meters away from the console chair, through a blue hexagonal doorway. The bulky Space Pirate, similar to AX7 in base appearance but boasting much more weaponry, armor and combat equipment, and his skin was tanned more so, nearing the blacker side of the spectrum. A sapphire colored backpack hunched over the chief's personal bodyguard jarred from side to side as En-Zee made his way to his leader.

"Sir, I believe the Commander requested that you personally…"

"I know what the _Commander_, ordered. But I am the executive of this base, En-Zee. And currently, with the destruction of Zebes and Tallon IV, I have authority over the Space Pirate military, is that clear with you, _Captain?_" AX7 explained tightly, pulling rank.

"I understand, that sir, but what you're saying is out of sight. I'm afraid to admit that the Commander is my direct superior now. He controls everything within the Space Pirate military forces, you can understand that,"

AX7 gritted his inner jaws against what he could, and croaked a long, annoyed gurgle. He lowered his head, almost dipping it into the abstract hologram, and shook it from side to side slowly.

"My entire life I have awaited this position, En-Zee. A few weeks upon finally obtaining it, a senseless leader-figure enters the fray, and unofficially deems me useless. Who does he think will run the brains of his forces, hmmm? Look!" AX7 exclaimed, gesturing an arm toward the massive viewport before him, overlooking a giant circular room below. "Does he think _this_ would have been possible without me?"

The captain Space Pirate, littered with spikes, various markings and combat scars all across his surface, stepped slowly toward the viewport, looking down upon the monstrous wonder that AX7 had revived more or less on his own. He turned back to the chief, sympathetically. "And now he'll be stronger than ever, able to resist any ground-forces the Galactic Federation throws at us. Your precious ground-troopers whom you speak of so highly won't have to risk their lives nearly as often as they currently do. Can't you see the potential?"

En-Zee couldn't agree more with the chief's statement.

"I lost two good troopers with that last wave of recon forces. If my men could be placed in more secure positions…"

"I would _assure_ you that!" AX7 cried desperately. "This is a mistake! The Space Pirate Alliance is in shambles, and one of us got lucky,"

"That would be the Commander" En-Zee nodded. As AX7 gazed at his bodyguard, one of his eyes seemed to grow larger than the other.

"You will stay _true_, won't you En-Zee?"

En-Zee sighed, and didn't think it pleasant of the executive to put him in the position he just had. _Desperate times…_ En-Zee started to think. He gave AX7 a blank nod, and turned around to leave the room. Heading toward the door, he spoke up once more.

"You should see the Commander now,"

The hexagonal door closed inward after En-Zee had stepped through, and AX7 was left watching after him.

"Blast!" AX7 finally shouted as he stood up from his chair.

The Grand Hall of the Ershos Base was almost magnificent enough to accommodate royalty, and the Commander certainly thought he was worthy of that. The metallic boots marched through the hordes of Space Pirate troopers, all saluting and remaining in a completely frozen position. AX7, standing on a pedestal at the end of the stretched blue strip of carpet, refused to salute even though it may have been respectful, and didn't drop his gaze from the Commander's terrorizing stride. The new military leader, replacing the command Ridley had amongst the Space Pirates, finally arrived before AX7's position, and finally the executive decided to deliver the Commander a salute. It was something that delivered a piercing blow to his pride soon afterward, and it seemed almost as if his rival knew. He preyed upon it. Below AX7 the Commander stood, but it wouldn't be for long. AX7 ran his eyes over the Space Pirate he knew planned to kick him downward from his position in the alliance. A deathly black helmet hid his face, roughly in the shape of the default Space Pirate head shape. The humanoid was armored even more than En-Zee could support, boasted more weaponry around every square inch of his suit, and on the whole, was a lot more masculine and taller. As he stepped up toward the pedestal, and came alongside AX7, the Commander towered over the executive. The Space Pirates, already rivals, exchanged locking stares, and then turned to their crowd. A profound and jagged growl emerged from the Commander, somehow shaping into words.

"Proud members of the Space Pirate Alliance, I am Commander Phexris. We may have suffered the loss of the great Commander Ridley, our limitless potential of Mother Brain… but _we are still here!_" he yelled. With a quick motion he grabbed one side of his black cape and swiped it across his front. Slowly, he arced an upper clipper across the rows of faithful Space Pirate troopers. "A new leader is here, confident the Space Pirates will succeed in their uprising against the Galactic Federation, and with a strong and powerful concept of how it is to be done" Phexris explained. AX7 stood by him uncomfortably, realizing his words were just what the military needed to hear, and that he was feeding them fuel. He listened carefully as Phexris continued. "When I stand here, I see soldiers ready to spill their blood for the succession of the Space Pirate endeavor. I see each and every one of you just as important as the next warrior to bring about the Space Pirate way throughout the galaxy. When our race sends all opposition fleeing for dark corners of the universe and our offspring are brought up in a galaxy when we were just mere freedom fighters, we'll all be seen as historical martyrs! We must not fight for the past, not for now… but for the _future!_ There, our destiny awaits. The future is our goal" Phexris continued. AX7 grinned to himself; he understood that lowly troopers would perceive any old trash as a motive to fight. They were bloodthirsty brutes, and the Galactic Federation had been their enemy for as long as anyone could remember. Behind his mask, Phexris pleasurably smiled to himself. "Are you with me?"

Giant bellows are war cries exploded from the crowd, yelling out Phexris's name with all their lungs could muster. Amongst the cheering and the huge confidence Phexris had congregated within all of them, AX7 dropped his head, unseen next to the new leader figure. Already he had lost, and he knew it. None of the Space Pirates had ever cheered for AX7 like that before, simply for the fact that he wasn't a military figure, and preferred to take down the Galactic Federation with brains instead of brawn. _And we think of ourselves as the superior species_, AX7 thought pitifully.

The three Space Pirates gathered around a black tabletop desk with customized Space Pirate seating, and relaxed into place. The room was completely sound-proof, so anybody that wasn't meant to hear anything of the upcoming conversation _couldn't_. En-Zee punched in a six-digit code adjacent to the door, and then seated himself next to AX7, whom was on the opposite side of the table from Commander Phexris.

"There's much to discuss" Phexris announced with his demented, almost electronic voice. _If you could call it that_, AX7 wanted to say. He nodded silently. Phexris disliked the refusal of acknowledgement to who was effectively AX7's immediate superior, but he discarded it for now. Until AX7 was on his knees, begging for his life before the wrath of Commander Phexris, AX7 would continue his pointless struggle for control of the Space Pirate Alliance. "Firstly I would just like to clarify my supremacy over the Space Pirate military. With all due respect, AX7-45, I have dealt with a life full of hostile situations involving the Galactic Federation. It would only be _proper_, if the soldiers were lead under my command, agreed?"

En-Zee swallowed hard as the executive shuffled slightly in his chair, uncomfortable with the statement.

"Commander Phexris, Ridley is dead. That means further leadership of the Space Pirate military will not proceed as it did beforehand. We all know Ridley was a work of art, created by our science division. His mind worked ingeniously, by no possibility could any of us compete with his legacy" AX7 explained.

"Then all we can do is offer our troopers the next best thing!" Phexris objected, raising his voice. AX7 crossed his alien arms, and leaned back into his chair.

"Are you aware of the redevelopment of our only remaining mainstay?" AX7 questioned, cocking an eyebrow. Phexris responded without hesitation.

"Of course, I was informed during my trip here" he answered. "You don't expect a monster to lead the Space Pirate armies, I hope" Phexris said with a grunt of laughter. AX7 kept a firm face.

"No, but I expect such a powerful bioweapon to be used first and foremost, regarding opposing ground forces, before we put good troopers to waste, wouldn't you agree?"

"It all depends on the situation,"

"The same situation that the Galactic Federation has been using ever since they opposed us!" AX7 barked.

"What are you talking about?"

"The Galactic Federation will do one of two things if they plan an assault. One, they will send squads of Federation troops, or they'll send in the bounty hunter,"

"You mean Aran" Phexris said with certain distaste. "You do not need to worry about the bounty hunter this time, rest assured, Executive. We have a plan of action this time,"

"That's been said before" AX7 said with a chuckle. "Ridley couldn't take her down. Our precious Mother Brain couldn't take her down. Not even Metroid Prime was capable of destroying Samus Aran, Commander. The woman is an anomaly. Never has anything defeated her!"

"Quite true, Executive. The hunter is quite different from any of her kind. Her technology surpasses anything we can muster; hordes of Space Pirate soldiers are unable to stop her… So I'm sure by now, you are asking what possible plan of action could I have?"

Phexris tapped his clawed scythe in place of a hand onto the black tabletop, producing a piercing clicking clatter, and allowed AX7 to wonder for a few moments. The Commander muttered under his breath and then chuckled. "We need to destroy Aran from the inside, Executive. Spread a plague through her Human body, surely it won't be much of a challenge for your scientific abilities,"

AX7 heightened a mandible, bringing it under his left goggled eye. "Yes, that's right" Phexris smiled, leaning forward. "I'm not going to throw you out of the picture contrary to what you may think. There's no need to worry,"

"You'll have me working for food!" AX7 snapped. En-Zee's needle retreated into his mouth, evidently uncomfortable with AX7's hostile attitude. At this stage, it would be best just to take what he could get from Phexris.

"Now, now" Phexris said calmly. He had expected this result, and was rather pleased about it. One way of driving AX7 from his position would be to convince the people he was uncooperative and unsupportive toward the Space Pirate cause. "I can understand your reasons for not trusting me. I enter your colony, I take over the minds of what you _thought_ were your men, and now I'm giving orders,"

AX7 nodded furiously.

"You'd better come up with something good!"

"I do not have a superiority complex, AX7-45. What I have is a vision for the future. I know I can grasp that vision in due time, but sooner than anyone had expected. All I want is the wellbeing of our _people_,"

"Of course. That's exactly why you were brainwashing them up there, right?"

"I wasn't brainwashing them," Phexris uttered despicably, "the soldiers need confidence. They weren't getting any with you sitting up here working on your bedroom projects!"

"I want our people to be free! I want them to learn to think for themselves! With some self-appointed bighead entering the picture it'll just delay the time it takes for them to become functioning, living beings,"

"I cannot talk like this" Phexris declared abruptly, his voice a deep bellow from behind the mysterious dark mask. "You're letting our personalities clash and putting beside the point,"

"Welcome to politics" AX7 sardonically cracked. Phexris clicked a mandible under his helmet, and then stood up from his chair. He brought his head up to both En-Zee and AX7.

"In time, AX7-45, I'll get your support, like it or not. This is a _military_ issue now,"

With that, Phexris departed the room and the door zipped close behind him. En-Zee gnarled his mandibles and shook his head glumly.

"He's done his homework, sir,"

"We don't know that yet" AX7 snarled.

Commander Phexris arrived at the large underground entrance to Barrack A2, attending some ordering issues that were in a mess due to AX7-45's poor leadership. A Sergeant, slightly smaller than Phexris, came to his left side and handed him a datapad.

"Rosters ten through seventeen sir, as you requested. I uploaded the information to this datapad specifically" the Space Pirate said, accommodating a brown and black military uniform. Phexris gave a short nod of appreciation, and accepted the bottle green card into a clipper. The Sergeant didn't move a muscle and looked at Phexris rather strangely; for a Space Pirate.

"Is there something else?" the Commander inquired.

"Just like to say what an honor it is to have you with us, sir. We'll show those Federation fascists what freedom means to us!"

Phexris chuckled. As insignificant as this soldier was to the Space Pirate cause, Phexris would need to resume his act of courage to give the military confidence, which could have very well been false hope.

"That's exactly the attitude our military needs, Sergeant" Phexris complimented. The Space Pirate nodded proudly, struck by awe at the new Commander's presence. Before leaving, the Sergeant spoke up again. Getting annoying, this was.

"Commander Ridley would be impressed" he said. Mandibles gritted against each other behind the mask, and Phexris clenched his clippers together. He swung around to face the Sergeant, his cape following suit, and Phexris struck the Sergeant in the throat. The Space Pirate dropped to his knees, grasping his neck, begging for redemption. Phexris considered sparing the Sergeant for a brief moment. Perhaps he had not realized what he had uttered in the presence of his new example. But in order to succeed, examples needed to be made. A crowd of lower ranked militants gathered around the exhibition, amazed by Phexris's display of combat toward their Sergeant. Not even aware of the squad leader's name, Phexris circled around his loyal soldier, probably with a full history of brave combat experiences; and hear he was, begging for mercy at the clutches of the Space Pirate Alliance's new Commander.

"Commander Ridley is dead, Sergeant" Phexris started. He didn't wait for a response. "His name will be written in the books, printed across the walls of the Great Hall, but, he is _dead_. As is Mother Brain, and all our other late heroes. They're all _dead_,"

The main thing of focus on the soldiers' minds was whether their Sergeant was going to be spared or not. They all had relationships with their immediate superior on a personal level, and if the Sergeant were to be terminated, faith would be lost in Phexris.

"Please, sir! I didn't mean any offense!" cried the choking Sergeant, bobbing from left to right on his knees, trying to give him something else to concentrate on, instead of the sharp pain. Phexris shook his head sympathetically.

"I know, soldier. I know you didn't mean any offense, but you must understand in order for the Space Pirate's to work as one, we must all think as one. You're death will show them that" he stated, making his voice clearer than usual so the others could hear. The Sergeant shook his head in objection, so desperate to preserve his own life.

"No, sir! Please! Don't do this, you told us we were all as significant as each other!"

"Exactly, exactly" Phexris nodded. "And if you are equal to your men, or anyone in the military, the same consequences will occur for them. I am your leader now. Until the day I die I want _full_ support from the Space Pirate military! I want you to look forward, into the future, thinking of our day of freedom at long last, and using that to motivate you to fight for what you want! Until this age of struggle is over you will honor _me!_ You will honor what I stand for, and you _will not_ look back. You will _never_ look back. I don't want to hear conversation about the great Commander Ridley. I don't want to hear comments about him, I don't want to hear comparisons involving him, because it's in the past, and we look forward!"

The Space Pirate troops, goggling over their dying master soon sucked in Phexris's words, paying attention to them more than they were to their dying Sergeant. "Is that clear?" Phexris questioned finally. The Sergeant, at the stage where he would do anything for life, offered all he could, and that was a nod and a positive gurgle. Phexris grabbed one of the Sergeant's shoulders which was within arm's length, and yanked him up to his feet. "Good" he said softly. He then turned to the Corporal of the squad. "Get your leader some medical attention; he won't die for another three minutes,"

"Yes sir!" the Corporal said, simultaneously amazed and horrified.

AX7 took in a deep breath, running his deep violet, pupil-less eyes over the green holographic text characters, scrolling both horizontally right and vertically downward before him. He brought a brown, hairy clipper up to select a specific category of information, which brought to him a list of radio signals transmitted from Zebes shortly before it was destroyed. After a minute of further reading, AX7 swung around on his routable chair, quite impressed with Enforcer-Z9's discovery.

"If it hadn't been for your decision to investigate the area with everything possible a week after Zebes's destruction, this information would have been floating through space for eternity" AX7 acknowledged with a hint of relief. "Furthermore, you found it. I am very astounded at both your thinking ability and your quick decision making En-Zee. If it were up to me, you would be promoted,"

"Thank you, sir" En-Zee said expressionlessly. AX7 had finished with his applause and dived immediately straight into business.

"I guess there's no denying the authenticity of this information. Space Pirates are Space Pirates. You realize what this means, don't you?"

Standing staunch with his arms extended behind his back, En-Zee couldn't help but grin.

"Our Phexris will be defecating Metroids, sir. It would be quite hysterical to see his reaction,"

"Maybe we could get the upper hand here, En-Zee" AX7 said quickly, not thinking ahead; only of the possibilities.

"I wouldn't get too cocky, sir. Let's just concentrate on the matter at hand" En-Zee replied quite plainly. AX7 pressed up from his chair and started wandering around the screened terrace that overlooked the restricted project area below. The Executive retold the information to make sure he had everything correct.

"Commander Ridley sends a transmission toward this base, minutes before Zebes is destroyed. Obviously, he was gambling on the speed of the transmission, but hoped like hell it would get here before the radioactivity of the explosion distorted the communication waves… right?"

"Yes sir, meaning Ridley somehow survived his encounter with Samus Aran… Yet again,"

"Except, he was killed not long afterward when Zebes exploded,"

"Yes sir, however when the bomb was set off Ridley attempted to escape Zebes, from the depths of Norfair,"

"Right" AX7 nodded, connecting the pieces of the puzzle together. He briskly headed back to the hologram, and swiped a clipper through the characters. More writing came up, and the Executive leaned closer. "His transmission was as follows: This is Commander Ridley, Samus Aran has infiltrated our base and destroyed Mother Brain. All Metroid activity on Zebes will be destroyed in a matter of minutes. Commence protocol B7-452987C on Ognosis. Confidentiality is no longer needed; this is our last hope as Space Pirates,"

AX7 stood up straight and exhaled, somewhat baffled and intrigued by Ridley's final transmission before his death.

"He said confidentiality is no longer needed" En-Zee noted confusedly. "Do you know of anything confidential regarding this particular protocol?"

"I doubt I've heard of the protocol, because I know of no confidential program here in the base whatsoever, and I've been the Executive for four years,"

En-Zee clicked his mouth needle over fleshy exterior surface.

"And as the lead science officer, you certainly would know. There was nobody else left,"

"Who was Ridley's second-in-command?" AX7 asked quickly. En-Zee frowned.

"Commander Ridley was a one-man army. He had _no_ second-in-command, sir,"

AX7 felt a black, cold substance shroud over his lower intestine. He hated mysteries. He hated unsolved ones more. AX7 suddenly swung around in his heavy endurance boots to face his bodyguard.

"I don't know who this was directed at, En-Zee. But they were here around the time when Zebes exploded. As much as I hate to say it, this scares me,"


	4. The Nearing Storm

Screeching metal movement echoed through the eastern hanger bay of _Corsair_, causing the same ear-piercing sound to be repeated about eight times. Samus Aran walked briskly into the barrage of different mechanical rackets, searching for one man in particular. She found him giving commands to lower-ranked soldiers of the GFMC, whilst trying to adjust the grip-force of the front left landing leg of a transport craft. When Colonel Warrick Gilsmore's cap started to come loose from his head's position, he gave it a tug to bring it down over his forehead, and then dropped down on all fours, investigating the mechanical fault which had been driving him nuts for the last ten minutes. As Samus approached, another soldier looked over Gilsmore, waiting for the officer's attention.

"Sir?"

"_What?_" Gilsmore grumbled, looking up. Peter Savski, the technological genius. Gilsmore probably should have offered him a little more respect.

"None of the four transport ships are in great shape sir" he said, ignoring the Colonel's agitation. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "The Federation is providing us with leftovers,"

Gilsmore swallowed hard and dropped his gaze, his mind already packed with problems.

"I know" Gilsmore replied, not wrapped about the issue himself.

"Well what do you want me to do? I can't get all this stuff one-hundred percent operational by the deadline, like the high-ups asked,"

"Maybe they thought you'd miss a few things" Gilsmore shrugged. "Look Savski, now's not a good time. Just do your best and report back to me tomorrow, at fifteen hundred hours. And be sure to look out for faults as well as just repairing, got it?"

"I got it, sir" Savski nodded. The small-built redhead vanished from sight, and Samus was revealed from behind where Savski had been standing. Gilsmore took a deep breath.

"Now what?" he asked.

"I want to come with you to Ognosis" Samus said without hesitation, her face completely serious. Gilsmore stuck his head close to the metallic landing leg and muttered under his breath.

"Bored already?"

Samus squatted down, bringing her face at eyelevel with Gilsmore's.

"There's something darker at play here, Colonel. Now your equipment is being supplied… _secondhand_,"

"It happens" Gilsmore stated, as if correcting her. "You haven't been around us long enough to know how the system works, Samus. So don't start sticking your nose in it now,"

Samus grinned at the sign of the warning tone while Gilsmore grabbed a winch of some kind and clicked it into place with the foot of the landing leg.

"I'm not under your command, Gilsmore. You can't just shake me loose. I've done enough for the Federation to ensure my opinion is a respectful one, don't you think?"

Gilsmore bit his lower lip as he felt a migraine coming on.

"Ugh… Why do you have to make things so difficult?" he asked. Finally, he pushed himself up and sat down in front of her. Samus brought her waist up and raised a brow, eager for further answering.

"I don't see a problem" Samus said. Gilsmore chuckled.

"Well, you wouldn't" he said abruptly with a heightening tone. "The mission commission would not allow you to accompany us on this mission, especially a bounty hunter. With a huge handful of Space Pirate remnants, your services will be required elsewhere,"

"What's to stop me following you down?"

"Ognosis is off-limits, you'd be jailed,"

Samus gazed uselessly at the hanger floor, trying to search through her mind for decent reasoning, but unclear thinking led her to frustration.

"Is there anything you could do?" she inquired desolately. Gilsmore shot her an uncertain glare, and then shook his head arrogantly.

"Hah, no way. I know what you're thinking, but no way would I risk my career to smuggle you down, for an apparently, pointless reason,"

"A recon team that was meant to be operating under _stealth_ conditions has gone missing, what do you think will happen when whoever it is down there _knows_ you're coming?"

Gilsmore sighed gloomily. "You can't keep ignoring the facts, or keep filtering out what you don't want to hear,"

"Well what am I supposed to do, Samus? I can't just put off a mission because I feel a little funny about it; I don't want to lose my job! Besides, I've been in situations like this before,"

"But a lot of soldiers fresh from military school haven't. Drake told me he'd never faced a proper combat situation before. Don't tell me you're willing to put your troops through that,"

Something finally hit home for Gilsmore, and he was brought to his senses. He dropped the winch from his hand and it clattered on the hard, blue hanger floor. His eyes fell into a trance after looking upon Samus's face, and he was left lost for words. Samus stroked a strip of glimmering blonde hair back behind an ear, leaving her face questioningly staring upon Gilsmore. A trickle of sweat slipped down the Colonel's dark brown neck, somewhere from a piece of grey hair hiding under his cap. After a few moments, Gilsmore used the landing leg to bring himself up to his feet, and Samus did the same simultaneously.

"I don't know what to say…" Gilsmore's voice wandered off. "You're… You're absolutely right. I need to come around…"

Gilsmore's breathing had suddenly quickened as his heart rate had increased from the alarming wake up call, and a gloved hand wiped some sweat away from his neck face with two brush-like movements.

"Colonel, you can't keep running on this collision course. You need to snap out of it,"

"I know, I know!" Gilsmore said urgently. "For God's sakes I'm… I'm a Colonel. I've let myself and my soldiers down…"

"No you haven't" Samus said strongly. She fastened a hand in the groove between his right shoulder and his neck. "Not yet,"

Gilsmore nodded.

"I was… I was going to kill them, wasn't I? _Willingly_, too,"

"You've got two days left, Gilsmore. Make sure you do the right thing. Raise this up with the mission commission, get some decent equipment, and if they won't supply you with anything then make some negotiations. Getting this thing going quickly _isn't_ worth the lives of your soldiers,"

Gilsmore let some air escape from his lungs, and scratched the back of his sweat-drenched hair.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm still not happy discarding this mission,"

"Samus, I know I was out of it, but listen, I can take care of my own" he avowed, raising his voice. She raised a questioning brow. He dropped his eyes and sighed; again. "I can do it. I wasn't thrown up the ranks for picking up garbage. I'm just used to routine. Maybe I needed an outsider to just bring me the differences,"

Samus declined her concern for the most part, muttered an affirmative reply and nodded her head, understandingly. Gilsmore decided there was no point in working on the landing leg anymore. "Either way I owe you credit, Samus,"

"I'm not trying to correct you, Colonel. I wouldn't know a fraction of the details you know about procedure and routine in the GFMC, but…"

"I get the picture, Samus. Thank you, I'll take it from here. You can remain on this ship and feel safe,"

Gilsmore turned away from her and headed for Peter Savski, however Samus wasn't fully convinced that the operation would proceed smoothly entirely, considering her discovery at the mission commission. She had improved the situation though, and that was all that could be done for now.

The exclusive equipment storage was sterilized every few hours, for some of the electronics were incredibly sensitive to certain conditions, and some weapons would cease to perform just because of a bacterial infringement. Once activated, the weapons would work fine. However, special casing for some of the additional equipment was required to keep them fully operational during movement and use. It was a bright silver room, looking like it had been coated in some form of tin foil, containing several racks supporting stacked rifles and special-terrain combat armor. An air-tight double-hatchway opened, and Sergeant Carlos Sanchez stepped through into the room, dressed in off-duty marine uniform. Following in his wake was Corporal Drake Warren, and after him, all the remaining members of Blazer Squad in no particular order.

"Boys and girls, here's our wonderful array of equipment" Sanchez spoke, his voice delicate. The Mexican didn't hesitate to admire the beautiful arsenal Colonel Gilsmore had personally selected for the group.

"You look a bit emotional there, Sarge" Naoko Aichi commented upon watching her superior's reaction.

"It's hard not to be" Sanchez replied, exhaling a deep breath of amazement. "Thank God the commission doesn't decide what we get out of here,"

"What would we get then?" Savski asked, his question serious as usual. The redhead's mind was always curious of additional weaponry and equipment details.

"Three twigs… and that'd be for the whole squad" Sanchez replied without much thought. Savski frowned.

"Will we need armor for a terrain change?" Drake asked as he browsed over the various colored body armor packed tightly into a rack side. Sanchez tipped his head either way, not sure of what to expect.

"Not sure if any ground has been made on the planet before. Certainly not by the core, anyway. I guess we can mark everything out by satellites but Gilsmore will have us take them one way or another,"

"What have we got for this one, Sarge?" Alan Walker asked. Sanchez presented the row of polished firearms, treated no lesser than antiques, with an extended arm.

"Once again we'll have Clifford's new Beta-Cannon for the long-distance assault, this time though, we'll probably actually get around to using it" Sanchez started. "Standard rifle on this mission will be MX-17, something everybody likes,"

"I knew someone would push for it" Walker muttered to himself, rather pleased with the choice.

"We won't have a secondary, here. But with the extra ammo I don't suspect there'll be any complaints,"

"Specialists?" asked Drake, running her eyes across the glittering silver racks.

"Culvick, you're getting an additional flamethrower. It's powerful, but it chews up ammo quick and should _only_ be used in definite short-range circumstances. Not too close, of course" Sanchez responded to Drake's question. He looked over the marines to search for the other two specialists. "Ivanov, you have your pump-action MM-33 launcher as usual, and also as usual, Savski, you'll have a DM-21 sniper rifle. Anymore questions?"

Drake looked over his soldier and noticed the others all seemed quite sure with the gear distribution. After all, the standard ammunitions system hadn't been introduced to them yesterday. "Alright, grab your stuff and make sure it's activated before leaving the room. Take it to pre-mission storage,"

Drake Warren, engaged in a deep train of thought crossed back and forth through his bunkroom, staring at the details of the miniature hologram diagram projected from his right hand. By the look of the wire-frame chart of the landscape of the Ershos Dirtlands, the only decent choice Blazer Squad has for an assault was front on, and it was a long distance to cross. The more he stared at the picture in front of his eyes, the more a finely crafted stalactite drilled into his intestines. He wasn't completely aware if the others couldn't see it, but some of them were going to be killed for sure. Suddenly the seriousness of the mission hit him, and he realized Sanchez shouldn't be laughing about it to calm the marines down. He took a seat on his own bunk, and then let a deep sigh escape him.

"This is suicide" he mumbled. Two seconds later, the bunkroom door slid open and instead of the usual sight of Samus popping through the opening, Naoko Aichi made her presence felt as she entered. "Nao?"

Nao looked back into the hall, and allowed Samus to pass by her.

"We were just talking" Samus claimed as she headed for her bunk. Drake dropped his gaze from Nao and focused on Samus. "War stories, battle scars, assault tactics… You know, girl stuff,"

"Ah" Drake answered with false understanding. "Nao have you seen the land charts?" he asked uneasily. She browsed at the holoprojector in his hand then sat down beside him, curious.

"Yeah I saw it in the briefing, of course. And in mission development,"

"No I mean, you haven't bothered to pick up one of these have you?"

"No, why?" she questioned.

"Well it may all seem very well when Gilsmore's standing over your shoulder explaining everything, but just _look_ at it" he explained, handing the projector. She took it in her hand, and hesitantly scanned over the map of the Ershos Dirtlands with her eyes.

"It's big,"

"Yeah no bull it's big. How the hell will we get cover from a frontal assault? Cliffs surround the rear and there's no way we can settle for an aerial assault with all the wind activity in the area,"

"Look if we're going to have trouble shooting a couple of Nomads from a kilometer with Beta-Cannons, then think of the trouble _they'll_ have,"

Drake's lips became flat against each other with the bittersweet consolation.

"We're going in blind as it is. It's like…" he frowned as he looked to Samus, sitting across from him. "Like the commission is trying to kill us… or something,"

"Don't be stupid" Nao cut in, giving him a questioning glare. Samus remained quiet as she slipped further back into some accommodating bunk pillows. "The more you think about this Drake, the more it seems rational,"

"Yeah?" Drake questioned. "An air assault for this one would be faster, and more efficient,"

"They'd all escape on the under levels before ground support could get in there. Be realistic" Nao countered. Drake directed an arm to his bedside table and grasped a series of three energy bracelets surrounding an aqua blue liquid, and took a sip. Nao kept her eyes on him as he returned the cup-circlet to the table.

"Well in… Four days I guess we'll find out just how _realistic_ the commission is being,"

Nao gave up and headed for the doorway.

"We're going to be alright,"

The door wiped away what could be seen of the outside hall, and closed with a mechanical whine. Drake uneasily shifted his eyes to read her reaction.

"It's becoming more believable, isn't it? First the equipment, now the poor planning" Samus stated warningly. Drake took in a deep breath and shook his head slowly.

"People are just being noticeably stupid lately" he concluded, dodging the issue.

The reception desk just outside the mission commission outpost within the walls of _Corsair_ was occupied by a delicate-looking female. Colonel Gilsmore approached the desk briskly, keeping an eye out for anyone of the GFMC wandering around nearby.

"Excuse me, I'm here to see Mister Terrald, is he available?"

"Yes Colonel, right through that door on the left, sir" she replied quickly enough, guiding him with an arm in the general direction. Gilsmore gave a nod of thanks and then proceeded toward the door, and it opened after only a couple of steps toward it. A larger man resembling a rather large, bulky primate exited, and offered a polite smile as he passed by the Colonel. The door was left open, and Gilsmore slipped through.

"What?" came a grunt. Devis Terrald looked up from the pile of grey datapads scattered across his desk, and sighed. "Oh… _you_,"

"Yes, I've come to see you about the Ognosis mission in four days time,"

"Have a seat" Terrald said, not taking his eyes of one datapad in particular. Gilsmore slowly seated himself with a chair a little offset from the center of the desk, and with every breath he felt like he was crossing into a very volatile ground.

"You see, it's about the equipment we were provided for the mission. The landing craft, and the ship equipment in particular,"

"Yes?" Terrald continued with a frown, looking up at the man quickly. The commission hated dealing with their own equipment problems, it led to lawsuits, employee dismissal and company loss.

"Well you see Mister Terrald, I ah… don't mind making repairs on the equipment you provide us with," the Colonel explained calmly and civilly, "but the landing craft we've been supplied with… is… in _terrible_ condition if I may say so. We won't be able to complete repairs within the mission deadline, there's all sorts of problems,"

Terrald intertwined his fingers and left the subject floating in the air between them for a moment, and then gave a typical business-like

"Hmmm…"

Gilsmore knew it was exactly the wrong thing to do, stepping on the mission commission's toes, but this time the lives of his men were at stake, and he needed to present that fact.

"You see Mister Terrald the two squads I'm taking with me have never been in a full-scale combat situation before, they need to be introduced to it slowly, and throwing them into the center of a Space Pirate base with faulty equipment isn't really the way I see fit to do it,"

Terrald raised an eyebrow and couldn't care less about not offering sympathy.

"Well then Colonel Gilsmore, I suggest you get cracking with those repairs,"

Gilsmore felt dwarfed by the commission head but wasn't prepared to give up.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you _that_ willing to throw Human lives away?"

"You must understand Colonel Gilsmore that the mission commission at times has to conduct up to hundreds of missions within a single five-day period. Sometimes you get the luck of the draw with the equipment, sometimes not. It's not something we can change, or do much about. Our equipment is so scarce due to the unfortunate trading business lately, but that's the way things are, take it or leave it,"

As far as Terrald was concerned the topic was concluded, and he went back to his datapad, focusing on how the commission could twist the share market to leech out another couple of billion credits. Gilsmore stayed put, and instead of dismissing himself locked a gaze on Terrald's rat-like face, gritting his teeth intensely behind his sealed lips. "I'm sorry, is there a problem?" Terrald asked, pained of the marine's presence.

"Damn straight there's a problem, Terrald. While your counting your credits upstairs my men will be dying down there because the mission commission gave us faulty equipment and refuse to just wait out the queue!" Gilsmore snapped. Terrald scowled at the man, not threatened in the least by his loud bellowing.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't shout in my office, or I'll have to ask you to leave,"

"I'll leave when I can walk out of here feeling like you actually give a damn about my soldiers who are risking their lives to protect people like you!"

Devis Terrald made an attempt at a compassionate face.

"I have sympathy for the squads, Colonel, I really do. But… those Space Pirates could launch an attack on the Federation at any given moment, or they could be massing an army down there for all we know! The ships may be faulty yes, but the weapon selection is all yours. If you were in my position you'd understand a lot more,"

"You won't even wait it out?"

"We can't do that, Colonel,"

"Then I quit!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Gilsmore rocketed up from the chair and threw it behind him where it crashed into the office corner. Terrald closed his eyes uncomfortably, waiting for the parade to pass by. As Gilsmore headed through the door, Terrald called out to him.

"Colonel, if you abandon this mission, it's not going to stop. Those squads will resume on, with the same equipment and mission plan, simply with a different leader, that's all. Now we both know there's not another Colonel in the GFMC _available_ that's as potent as yourself, and in fact, Bravo Black and Alpha Red will probably suffer even more so because you won't be there for them. But… of course like I said, it's your choice,"

Gilsmore stood still for a moment, trying to keep the desire to crush the man into small pieces just a thought, and then muttered under his breath.

"Damn you corporates,"

Blood boiling within his veins, Gilsmore yanked the black comlink from his belt as he paraded down the corridor toward the hanger. He set a frequency, and then clicked down the red shoulder button.

"Savski this is Gilsmore, get down to the hanger bay quick, we're going to need to work our asses off. Get any technicians and mechanics you can think of, that are available,"

"What's going on sir?" came a higher and frustrated voice.

"The commission refuses to provide better equipment; they expect us to go with what we've got,"

"That's insane" Savski mumbled despicably.

The Space Pirate hologram faded into the air, and Drake Warren whipped out his energy rifle and painted the projection with accurate green blasts. The Space Pirate's holoprojected head splattered apart across the shooting range as if something had detonated from inside. Drake grinned at his work. Quick, instant kill, and dead accurate. After three seconds, another Space Pirate adjacent to the remains of the other popped up instantly, and before it could even establish a solid projection, Drake blasted the hologram apart. _That makes seven_, he calculated silently. Drake's sidearm slumped downward as he turned away from the range, and then flicked upward at the presence waiting for him.

"Whoa…" the marine sighed with a hint of relief. Samus Aran's delicate figure was there to greet him with crossed arms. Drake's eyes ran up the loaned military uniform and then locked on her face. "You do that a lot,"

"Sorry" she heartlessly replied. "I heard Gilsmore paid a visit to the mission commission…"

"Yes?"

"And?"

"And he couldn't push for anything" Drake sighed, releasing the muscles in his arm again. Samus's reaction was nothing short of angry.

"You can't go down with the ships you have!" she objected. "Someone has to _stop_ this mission, Drake!"

"Look, the Colonel did his best to convince the commission there needed to be some changes… and unfortunately, his best wasn't good enough" Drake explained. Samus was still baffled with Gilsmore's reasoning for continuation of the mission, and the words were still coming from Drake's mouth. "Peter Savski, our squad tech, said something about blackmail. The mission is going to proceed one way or another and Gilsmore doesn't want to let a less-able squad leader to do the job, or we'll all be killed for sure,"

"He was _blackmailed?_ The commission can't do that!"

"Well… you've heard about the Chaos Axis… right?"

"You mean that renegade group who's been attacking the Federation?" Samus clarified.

"Yeah, that's them. Anyway, General Grargov has had a lot to deal with lately, and with all the ensuing fighting, the military board has let this one escape them… It's not under their full control,"

An eyebrow cocked up, and Samus was convinced that this was yet another sign of the mission commission's deceit. She tilted her head as a gesture for Drake to speak on. He flinched a little, knowing where her thoughts were going, but carried on anyway. "Devis Terrald managed to get a grasp on this mission, he calls the shots on this one. Reason being is that it was easy for him to manipulate General Grargov and convince him he needed some work off his plate. That's really all I know, but the rest really all falls into place,"

"Yes it does" Samus stated suggestively. Drake wiped his lips with a gloved hand to rid himself of beads of sweat, and made an approach for the weapons rack on the left side of the white shooting range hall.

"It's not what you think it is" Drake claimed confidently. "The mission commission is all about money, they wouldn't dare risk their position for just one mission. This one can get them a few bucks, sure… if it's successful, even more so,"

"And yet, why do I get the feeling this is a suicide mission?"

"Gilsmore is a smart guy" Drake replied quickly. "The commission's stupid, they'll rely on him to pull us through this one. And Terrald knows Gilsmore won't abandon the job,"

He stopped when he arrived at the weapons rack and began dislodging the extra ammunition left over and packing it into energy casing. Samus remained frozen still, arms crossed tightly, her presence demanding attention. Drake shook his head slightly while overlooking his rifle, thinking Samus was somewhat manic about the issue.

"By the time you realize how wrong you are, it'll be too late. You'll perish, along with all the others" Samus sighed gloomily. Drake sparked a sarcastic grin, finishing up packing his ammunition.

"That's always a confidence boost,"

"You don't understand in the slightest… And I don't want to see that happen, I really don't. But with each second that passes your letting this mission get closer and closer… It's going to occur as Devis Terrald and that associate of his want it to,"

"Get this straight" Drake frowned, engaging his voice into a stern manner. "You walked into my life three or four days ago. Yes, you're universally renowned for your courageous efforts to stop the Ing, the Space Pirates, and whatever else you've dealt with…" he paused, and turned to Samus calmly and with a mellow stare. "But you're still a stranger to me,"

"You said I wasn't a stranger to anyone,"

"I was wrong, Samus" he replied as if he had been reading a script. "You're name is famous… _You're_ not,"

Samus's chin lowered a small amount as Drake had unintentionally taken a stab at her integrity. She held back the emotional pain. "Samus, I'm not going to believe anyone who shows up in the marine core and starts making accusations against a organization that has had veracity for a hundred years, you have to understand that,"

With a couple of moments silence, Drake decided he'd let Samus take in his words and started walking for the exit of the shooting range with cased weapons and ammunition in hand. Samus was left cold and alone, once again, with nobody to turn to, or discuss the truth with. A heroin in a foreign territory, where few paid her with the respect she deserved. And here she was, doing everything she could to save them, where the marines would throw the vital information she carried right back in her face. It was time to raise the matter with someone else. Someone who would do something about it.

The broad golden rings forming the walls of the military council's hall onboard _Corsair_ were perfected to every last detail. The surface of the walling as smooth as the hull of a newborn spacecraft, the auburn shade of the council member's desks were a glistening maple, and the faces of the affiliates themselves were lemon sour. The aging General Hassen Grargov with a lack in patience and hair introduced Samus Aran into _his_ hall.

"Welcome Miss Aran, this is the military council's chamber on the flagship _Corsair_, you want to bring forth an issue to the council?" Grargov asked. His voice was croaky, full of gaps and harsh 'S's and at times even hard to understand, but with his voice came a hint of wisdom people simply recognized was there. Samus hesitantly leaned forward toward the metal square microphone placed on the pedestal of her audience box.

"Ah, yes, sir," she lightly said. Eleven other faces, not including General Grargov were placed in an amphitheatre-like structure based around the center speaker, all studying Samus's appearance and style. In this case, she had none.

"Very well" Grargov replied invitingly.

"Well sir, as you know there is a mission due to Ognosis in… two days time. The mission commission, who are not only founding and running, but also controlling this particular operation, are unable to provide the two participating squads with fully functional landing transports. On a mission as dangerous as this one, don't you think it would be suitable if they were given more support, in that case?"

Grargov placed one elbow across his workspace.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked quickly.

"That… another team be relieved from another duty to provide support for Bravo Black and Alpha Red…"

Already Grargov was shaking his head in disagreement, and interrupted.

"Miss Aran, you know, to the military you have something of a civilian career. You're proposal in my chamber can't even be seriously considered by the council when you are not part of the GFMC,"

"But you've let me come this far, General. Don't just dismiss me now" Samus cried desperately.

"I can't just remove another squad from duty where they are much needed in our struggle against the Chaos Axis. I understand the Space Pirate Alliance is a threat but with the destruction of Zebes they are significantly dropped on our priority list. The Chaos Axis attacks us once or twice every standard _week_, and _that's_ where our priorities lie" he explained carefully.

"Well is there anything you can do to improve the situation? Really General, look at the facts. You're sending, if I may say so, a rookie team into a potentially hugely violent situation… violence which they haven't been eased into. With the situation bad enough as it is, the last thing the squads need is faulty equipment,"

Finally, Grargov started to absorb her words and the wrinkles making his face started to loosen up.

"The most I can propose to the rest of the council is to send two capital ships from GF Primary Fleet back here to wait for the mission start time, and to provide aerial support during the mission,"

Samus remained quiet for a few seconds, considering her options. Upon facing the reality that she had none, getting all she could get was critical.

"Yes, thank you, General,"


	5. Grand Discovery

Toward the dark reaches of space, a small Space Pirate Alliance transport streaked through a field of Space Pirate wreckage, land chunks and various materials put in motion by the destruction of Zebes. For every klick gained with cruise speed engaged, Executive AX7-45 felt the tingle of anticipation fluttering in his stomach amplify. Captain Enforcer-Z9 sat at the controls of the rugged old transport, not expecting any Federation trouble makers but was always prepared for the worst.

"I can only assist you so much, sir. My obedience lies with Commander Phexris now,"

"I understand that, En-Zee. I'm not forcing you to do anything" AX7 replied with his thoughts running elsewhere. En-Zee was fairly uncomfortable with the casualness of the executive's reply.

"Sir, with all due respect, I stuck out my neck for you getting that information. I'd like some… acknowledgement,"

"I thanked you for that, En-Zee,"

"Yes, but now you're pretending it was just a stroke of good luck" En-Zee complained.

"Commander Phexris is a monster, En-Zee. If we slip and allow him to take control of the alliance, we'll lose what civilized attributes we have. Since the beginning of this war the Federation has never even considered us freedom fighters, battling for a cause. At this rate, Phexris will turn the universe into a slaughter house,"

"You've known him for so little time, sir, and yet you make these very large assumptions,"

"I can read a Space Pirate brute like the back of my hand… And Phexris, is nothing more than a Space Pirate brute,"

En-Zee had planned on replying, but a harsh beep from the main navigation console prevented him from doing so.

"We're close,"

"Good. Maybe we can find some missing puzzle pieces" the executive said hopefully. En-Zee flicked down a red switch somewhere off to his left, activating a sonar beacon that not only picked up on other crafts, but detected radio transmissions also. The battle-scathed captain didn't take his eyes of a stray rocky mass heading the ship's way. A graceful twirl brought the small ship below the chunk, and En-Zee released a small sigh of relief. Now they were closer to where the core of Zebes would have been, if it had in fact not been destroyed.

"More segments of that communication relay… and maybe, just maybe we can find direct details of who the message was meant for" AX7 noted to himself, almost as if he didn't know how close to potential destruction the ship came to.

"The beacon's not picking up anything, I think we got the whole message" En-Zee replied. He knew this trip was for nothing. AX7 frowned at the Captain's quick conclusion.

"Oh look, there has to be something around here,"

"Not a trace of… wait…"

En-Zee's voice was tinted with surprise.

The tractor beam heaved in the dismembered mess, the strain tugging on some areas of the body and not others. Once it was sucked through an open hatch through the hull, the invisible beam was deactivated, and the hatch sealed itself shut.

AX7 barraged past a few containment cylinders to the cargo bay, flicked the door open via a switch, and took a step closer to the new discovery, this time slow and cautious. The Executive's eyes were awed.

A frozen coat of jagged blue and white mixed ice shielded the long dead familiar figure. Half of Commander Ridley's dragon body had been destroyed in Zebes's explosion, as the edging torso was crisped with black, frozen ash. A glacier with scattered crimson shades sprouting from the sliced epidermis of the neck trailed down to the left leg, packed with iced over innards.

"What have we found?" En-Zee asked as he engaged in a brisk walk toward the end of the ship. AX7 was unable to take his eyes of the daunting finding, but conjured up a small response.

"Ridley,"

En-Zee dropped his clipper down on the switch, and the ship's sublight engines were engaged as it approached the asteroid field.

"You'll need to think carefully about this, sir,"

"Yes" acknowledge AX7, his thoughts elsewhere.

"Phexris will do everything he can to prevent a memorial for Ridley, it'll set back the soldiers. Are you sure you're doing the right thing? It may not be good morale for them. What if the Federation attacks tomorrow?" En-Zee questioned. AX7's concentration was broken, and his tone was agitated.

"They're _brutes_, En-Zee. If chucking Phexris out of power means screwing with the soldier's minds, then so be it. Our true power lies with our _larger_ weapons. We just need the labor" AX7 explained.

"They're _my_ soldiers! You can't treat them like waste!" En-Zee countered.

"I have to En-Zee, I can and I will. You'll see it's for the better of things,"

"And is it for the better of things if I decide to take Phexris's view on things?" En-Zee shouted. There was a trembling silence as AX7 shot his bodyguard a degrading stare.

"Don't forget who you are, En-Zee. And don't forget what we're fighting for,"

En-Zee remained quiet as he guided the ship through the assortment of space rocks.

Grainy specks meshed thickly, bouncing across the breeze, and then suddenly whipped in miscellaneous directions at the wind's mercy. The typical and unchangeable weather of the Ershos Dirtlands wasn't any less ferocious during the night, and posed a threat to ships that needed to land. To maintain hidden from the Galactic Federation, only two small red beacons were placed on either side of the submerged hanger. As a deep thrum faded into range, a small and old-model Space Pirate ship hovered forth, in between each of the markers, throbbing red every few seconds, and steadied itself. When Space Pirate control received notification of the ship's presence, the landing bay doors were opened. Masses of dust caved in below the floating ship, diminishing into a dark square aperture below the surface. The aging craft dived in with haste, and the hanger doors then flicked effortlessly back into their original state. Outside, the Dirtlands remained wild as usual, seemingly untouched.

En-Zee shuffled into the pilot's seat, not keen on leaving the ship just yet. AX7 placed a clipped across the back of the seat.

"I apologize for my behavior before, En-Zee. My thoughts were… elsewhere. You can understand,"

En-Zee knew there was no apology necessary, the bodyguard would resume his normal tasks as usual in spite of what thoughts were roaming through his mind. There was however, the issue with Ridley's discovered corpse.

"Of course sir" En-Zee replied emotionlessly. "But my concerns lie with Ridley's corpse. Phexris will jump down our throats if he hears about this,"

"I know" AX7 said. He wandered back through the ship's narrow passenger bay. "The good Commander already suspects we were up to no good out there. Right now any trip to the Zebes site will look suspicious. So we're going to go with a story,"

En-Zee hated keeping secrets within his own circle.

"I don't like the sound of that sir, we may end up in our own bird's nest,"

"That won't happen because nobody else knows about what we found. We went out there, we were hoping to find any information we could about the destruction of Zebes… and we found nothing. Understood?"

"Yes sir,"

"Good. When the time is right I'll tell the brutes about Ridley's body. When Phexris gets riled up about it, I can exploit his lack of respect for Commander Ridley and other Space Pirate icons. I'm aware he's already made that mistake and it's a good start, but we still need to wait, because he's made a strong impression,"

En-Zee clicked an inward mandible, which generally signaled a nervous twitch.

"You want to brainwash the brutes as well, sir?"

"En-Zee," AX7 digressed, "they'll be in safer hands,"

"Right… sir" En-Zee nodded. As AX7 left the ship En-Zee remained still and silent. Now he understood perfectly what was occurring. With his position of power taken away from him, AX7 was prepared to go to great lengths to obtain it again. If AX7 planned to manipulate the soldiers as Phexris had done, then who was truly looking out for the wellbeing and future of the alliance?

The shaded eye slots molded into Phexris's protective mask shifted as the entrance to his private accommodation opened. Another Space Pirate came through, this one coated in a black leathery skin. Phexris eyed En-Zee closely as he sunk himself into a seat on the opposite side of an oblong desk.

"Don't make yourself comfortable, Enforcer-Z9" came the disturbingly raspy voice. "I don't have time for small talk, you came here with an offer and I want to hear about it,"

En-Zee's eyes looked swollen from emotional stress. Possibly a sign of deceit against his former master. En-Zee found it difficult to raise his voice, every second he spent in the Commander's room he felt like a traitorous whelp wiping away any form of integrity he had.

"It has recently come to my attention," the Captain said in a shaky voice, "that AX7-45's hunger for his power back may not be healthy for the alliance. He was a good leader, but now he's been consumed by the idea of control,"

"You want to work for me?" Phexris cut in with a smile beneath his mask.

"No" En-Zee replied abruptly. "I want to try and bring him back. But for now it's probably best if I don't let him get ahead of himself…"

"Why are you here?"

"I trust the alliance will be treated well in your hands for now. AX7-45 needs to realize where his priorities lie. Which is why…"

"I said I didn't have time for small talk, Captain. Either you leave my office, or you get to the point,"

"We found Ridley's body and AX7-45 plans for a memorial, which he knows you'd object to. He'd use your surprise to render you disrespectful toward Space Pirate icons. I'm not sure it would work but I don't want AX7 making the wrong moves if it did…"

"_What?_ Ridley… he was completely destroyed!"

"It seems Ridley tried to flee from Zebes after he realized the planet was going to explode, we found what remained of his corpse…"

"This can't happen; I will not have the fragile minds of the soldiers influenced!" Phexris bellowed as he shot up from his seat. "Ridley was a great Commander but he is in the past now. With those soldiers following his leadership religiously they will never be able to move on if AX7-45 brings the subject up again…"

En-Zee watched the Commander's actions closely. Was Phexris's clipper jabbing into his side because of his anger, or was it because there was a Space Pirate pistol neatly tucked away behind his cape?

"What are you going to do?" En-Zee inquired.

"I'm going to find that corpse and destroy it…"

"Sir!" En-Zee interjected. "Commander Ridley deserves a proper memorial! Maybe it's just better if we wait,"

"Enforcer-Z9, Ridley is dead and his problems are over. Now I've got to think about mine,"

Phexris turned to En-Zee hesitantly. "You've already gone this far, Enforcer-Z9. You've diminished your loyalty toward your master, so now why not complete the job, hmmm?"

"You want me to foil my own master's plans? That won't happen,"

"You've _already_ foiled his plans by coming to me, and he'll find out about indefinitely. Now do you want to be known throughout the alliance as a stool pigeon or a team player?"

En-Zee snorted a chuckle himself. Phexris obviously wasn't a man of his word, and relied on blackmail to skip him through his campaigns.

"If that's the way you want to play the game sir, I don't imagine you'll be around long,"

"The way _I_ play the game, Captain? How is it worse than your traitorous schemes?"

En-Zee growled aggressively, taking a step closer toward his superior. Phexris was intelligent enough to realize En-Zee was a much more competent fighter than himself, and knew better than to go for his pistol.

"Don't like it, do you?" Phexris said with a cocky tone. "However let me remind you Captain, that AX7-45 is in no state to govern a military – something he is rather unfamiliar with. Stay on my side and you'll be doing the alliance well,"

En-Zee snarled as he turned and headed for the door of the quarters.

"The corpse will be destroyed" he muttered bitterly.

AX7-45 leaned forward toward the reinforced transparent viewport, his eyes feasting on the gargantuan beast that he had kept alive. There were times when he would lose track of his work and just stare at the all-powerful bioweapon, absorbing its essence like a work of art. At that moment, the electronic drone of Monitor Station's entrance opening ruined his contemplation, and AX7 was struck with a paroxysm of annoyance with his short patience. He turned resentfully to the hexagonal doorway, expecting to see his bodyguard wander through but instead was stared upon by Commander Phexris himself. Not particularly interested in the visit, AX7 gave the creature one last look and then turned to the attention-demanding swine.

"Commander Phexris, what brings you to my… 'bedroom'…" AX7 inquired, recalling an earlier conversation. Phexris uttered nothing as he approached the viewport alongside the powerless Executive.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Phexris then incoherently said. AX7 raised a leathery and furry strip of crust above his eye, not expecting such words to come from Phexris's mouth. He faced his treasure once again.

"Beautiful is an understatement,"

Phexris kept his eyes locked on the killing machine, but then started on a new note.

"I would say what a good job you've done AX7-45, however that wouldn't be accurate,"

"What are you talking about? It's because of my hard work that Kraid is still alive!"

"No it isn't" Phexris replied quickly with a hint of exultance. "You know Phazon may have enhanced Kraid's abilities, however there's a very special _something_ that saved him from the wounds inflicted by Aran,"

AX7 wouldn't let the Commander manipulate his thoughts.

"No, Commander you are wrong. If it weren't for Phazon there would be no mainstay here with us now,"

"Maybe you should run a scan on Kraid to check for a foreign entity, or as I like to call him, Kraid-X…"

Phexris's cape trailed through the doorway as the ambiguous hints floated through the air behind him. The door closed, and AX7 immediately dived into his seat and activated a scan system. A holoprojector popped up as several purple laser beams within Kraid's dome circulated the sleeping monster, lowering through the large auditorium until they had examined every inch of organic material. A satisfying grin emerged on AX7's roach-like face. There was nothing, Phexris didn't have any idea what he was talking about. The frustrated scientist came up from his seat, and headed toward the door. He stopped in his tracks. Maybe a blood test was necessary to be on the safe side. Walking briskly back to the medical console, he engaged a blood test procedure, which would only take a few seconds. A pointed spine materialized from the divider of the auditorium and pricked neatly into a small area of the dragon's jagged fern green thoracic area. It only took a few seconds to gather the required blood, and the device retreated back into its compartment. The results flooded the holoprojection. The word 'unknown' nested amongst other words in the report, and AX7's eyes were immediately drawn to it. He tapped his clipper on the underlined words 'unknown substance', and an image came up. AX7 couldn't tell what the zoom was, but the measurements were the least of his concerns. A single organism polluted the projection; a wriggling horror that resembled the shape of an 'X'. AX7 froze as his heart refused to beat. Trembling with the realization he had been somehow swindled, he staggered to the viewport, staring at Kraid in a new light. The sleeping beast, coated in dark and light forest greens and murky yellow, hunched over itself almost in a fetal position, shifted up and down with every breath it bellowed. Giant barbs spawned from the base of Kraid-X's spine, and grew larger as they neared his neck. Shoulder blades formed with perfect arcs stretched through the dome, only able to fit in the space by a few meters. Less than two minutes ago AX7 felt as if all this was his own. Now it was different, Phexris had stolen his treasure even before he even had it. With a huge swing, AX7 bashed his clipper against the reinforced viewport, but his force wasn't enough to make it flinch. He stormed toward the door of Monitor Station, with a new agenda in mind. Phexris had vanished from the adjacent corridor, leaving the path to the elevator clear. He gyrated violently away from the viewport, taking giant gasps of air with a bellow rumbling deep within his stomach. There was one thing that could bring Phexris down, but the timing wasn't right. _Desperate times_, AX7 told himself. He had no choice. He approached the entrance, and proceeded down the corridor to the nearest elevator. Confirming nobody else was in the vicinity, he punched in the level details, and within a few moments the black and silver-aligned doors opened in an iris. Directly ahead of him were maximum security Space Pirate guards, boasting enough weaponry to level a GFMC capital ship. AX7 started toward the transport desperately, but was stopped in his tracks by the barrel of an ominous repeater rifle.

"Executive AX7-45, you are under arrest,"


End file.
